The Drama Queen, sat high on her throne
happy in company, and never alone.
Keen to please, seemingly at ease.
Happy to age, with grace on life’s stage
A throng surrounding, chatter away
in this manner, proceeds every day
Till denied the attention
she panics with incomprehension
What to do to fill this void?
All resources must be employed
have a fit, raise a voice,
start to quiver
bang a door, stomp around
cry a river
shout obscenity and hammer the walls
till the cookie crumbles and finally falls
all eyes back on her, peace at last
the rubble has settled, the die has been cast
the people around are shaken and stirred.
All non-queen related thoughts, incurably blurred.
From → Philosophy, Poetry, Spirituality, Writing
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